Reunited
by AlwaysAReasonToWakeUp
Summary: Warning: First Story Alert. Takes place mid-season 8. Cas is still MIA after his battle with Naomi/Dean, and Dean is getting more and more annoyed waiting for him to come home. Apologies for the terribleness of the summary; hopefully, the story will be more interesting :P


Hello, everyone! I'm Lily; I'm a first-time publisher to FFn and I'm deeply obsessed with everything SPN. Feel free to leave me a review if you'd like, because I welcome constructive criticism! Oh, and thank you so much to those who already followed and favorited this; I wasn't expecting that, and it was a nice surprise to wake up to this morning! So…read on, then, I guess!

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"Son of a bitch!"

It's growled lowly as Dean gets up from where he was sitting on the bed and starts pacing. The thought that this is _his _room, really his, does little to comfort him this time as his thoughts start going a mile a minute again.

_Cas with the knife. Cas beating the absolute shit out of him, and the blood slowly running down his face. Cas looking down at him with so much _nothing _in his eyes…_

Dean rakes a hand through his already rumpled hair as he tries to block out the mental images that won't seem to leave him alone. It's 3 am. He should be sleeping right now. God knows he isn't getting any younger, and the fact that he has an actual _bed _to sleep in that's all _his_-and not infested with who knows how many different parasites-should be more than enough reason to be off in dreamland with flying pies and hot chicks in bikinis all around him. Instead, he's up thinking about a fucking nerdy-ass angel.

_He was going to kill him. Castiel, angel of the motherfucking Lord, who gripped Dean Winchester tight and raised him from fucking perdition, was going to stab him to death, and there was nothing Dean could do about it. He was thisclose to passing out as it was. And there was something very wrong with Cas's head, too, because he wasn't registering anything that was going on around him._

Dean stops pacing and shakes his head like a dog, trying his best to get the damn memory to get out of his brainspace. It's driving him nuts. He opens the door as softly as he can, trying his best not to wake up Sammy, whose room is right next door. The idiot has been getting five hours of sleep a night if he's lucky; the rest of the time he's either hacking up a lung or disgusting amounts of blood. Dean's still incredibly pissed that Sam killed the damn hellhound in the first place, even if it was about to rip him to shreds. He hates how much his little brother is suffering because he couldn't finish the job.

Managing to reach the bathroom without making too many elephantine noises, Dean splashes water on his face and looks in the mirror. He catches himself grinning a bit as another recollection involving the winged asshole hits-_the mirror, and the minor heart attack that followed the "Hello, Dean."-_ He really doesn't know the meaning of personal space, but Dean has grown used to it by now. Hell, he even kind of…enjoys it?

Jesus, he really needs more sleep.

He tiptoes back down the hall and closes his door again. The pitch blackness is velvety in its silence, broken only by Dean's footfalls on the carpet. He lies back on the bed and feels the mattress 'curve to the contours of his body' (fuckin' memory foam is awesome), before realizing that something doesn't seem right. His hand automatically goes to the old Colt .45 he keeps under his pillow, but as his eyes adjust he pulls his hand back. It couldn't hurt the being that's currently facing away from him anyway.

"Cas?"

His voice shakes a little, and inside his head he should be berating himself for it, but at the moment he's too preoccupied with the goddamn angel at the foot of his bed.

"Hello, Dean."

The gravelly voice is too quiet for his liking, but he doesn't say anything as Castiel faces him for the first time since he took off with the damn Angel Tablet. Those damn blue eyes just stare right at him like always; it takes all his effort not to fall into them. Dean shakes his head roughly again. _Where the hell are all these girly thoughts coming from?_

"So-"

His voice fucking cracks. Great. Now he's a prepubescent boy as well as a pansy. He clears his throat and starts again.

"You mind telling me where the hell you've been, exactly?" The angel visibly deflates. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting a fucking party with a huge 'Welcome Back!' banner and cake and streamers and shit? Sorry to rain on your parade, Cas, but that's not gonna happen. You wanna know why? Maybe it's because, _yet again_, you took off on us without giving us a clue. _Yet again _we were left in the cold while you decided to take a little vacation God knows where-"

"You know as well as I do that I had a legitimate reason for leaving, Dean." He's pissed now. _Good_, Dean thinks. _See how it feels, dickhead._

"Yeah, well, way I see it, you can have all the reasons and plans you want, and your execution can still be shit." He wants to grab him by the collar of that damn trenchcoat and shake him stupid, but holds himself back so he can hear the angel's next sentence.

"I came to apologize." Dean blinks.

"Come again?"

"I realize that my departure, though it was of utmost import, may have been less than ideal for you and Sam, so I wanted to ask your forgiveness." The whole thing sounds so…formal. Dean decides he doesn't like it.

"You want to _apologize_. That's it? No magical explanation of where you disappeared to this entire time, or maybe _why_ you decided you needed to take off with the only thing that can close the damn Golden Gates for all eternity?"

"I see you've been doing your research," Cas mutters. "I know it seems hard for you to understand, and I am sorry that I left, but I cannot tell you the location of the tablet. I am already disgraced enough in Heaven as it stands."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're saying you _hid _the Angel Tablet, which, I'd like to remind you, _I _found in the first place, in some super-secret hiding place so good that even Doctor Batshit won't be able to find it? I know you're trying to…_redeem_ yourself or whatever, but are you sure about this, Cas?"

The angel blinks slowly. "I believe that the place where the tablet currently rests is the safest spot on Earth, yes."

Dean is still extremely skeptical, but decides to discuss it with Sam in the morning rather than bicker about it more right there and then. He cracks his knuckles, and just as he's opening his mouth to mumble random shit to fill the quiet, Cas starts to talk again.

"That is not the only thing that I am sorry for."

Dean looks at him again, trying to process what he's blabbering about now. He can't think of anything else the angel has done recently (seeing as he's been _gone _for months), but starts mentally preparing himself for whatever it is Cas has done while he was on his spirit walk that's gonna screw things up in the future.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Cas rises from his place on the bed and moves next to where Dean is sitting, looking unsure about whether he's allowed to sit or not. Dean gestures absentmindedly, and Cas sits next to him.

"When we were…fighting-"

"When you were beating me to a bloody pulp," Dean mumbles under his breath.

"When I was…beating you, yes. You are aware that I was not of my own mind at that time."

"Yeah, Cas, I know all this already. What's your point?"

"I am still in possession of my memories from my time under Naomi's control. It is unfortunate; I committed terrible crimes." He hangs his head briefly, and Dean thinks of Samandriel. He wants to ask, but decides the time isn't right.

"My point in all of this," Cas continues after a minute, "is that I remember everything that happened that night. And I believe I have pinpointed exactly when I returned to my own mind, so to speak."

"Okay…I'm still completely lost here."

"It was you, Dean! You told me you needed me, so I came back to you!" Castiel is on his feet now, pacing wildly around the room, looking anywhere but at Dean, who is still processing what he's just been told.

"Cas." He's making Dean dizzy.

"Cas!"

"What?! What do you want me to say? I'm in an impossible situation here, Dean, okay? I'm trying to apologize for leaving you, and you won't let me. I'm sorry if you don't understand everything that's happening in Heaven right now, but I cannot explain it to you because I wouldn't even know where to begin. And if you're angry about that, then you're just going to have to keep being angry, because I don't see any other solution. And another thing-"

By this point, Dean has stood up, walked over to Cas, grabbed him by the collar, and pushed him up against the nearest wall. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, then glares at the ticked off angel in front of him.

"Listen to me, you sonofabitch, and listen closely. I'm fucking exhausted, okay? Because I am fucking exhausted, the only thing that registered in that entire speech you just spewed was that you give a damn about me just as much as I give a damn about you. Are you in agreement regarding that?"

Cas nods, then cocks his head and looks at Dean in mock amazement, amusement visible in his eyes. "After all this time, do you really still believe this is a purely platonic relationship, Dean?"

Dean rolls his eyes, and mutters, "Shut up, jackass." before yanking the angel to him and slamming their mouths together.

In the back of his mind, Dean is perfectly aware that Sam is still sick, and the Angel Tablet is still missing, and Crowley's pissed as hell that Sam rescued Bobby and sent him on the Angel Expressway. But right now, he doesn't care about any of that. Right now, he's gonna let himself forget about all the bad shit that's going on around him, and allow himself to feel true happiness for the first time in a long time.

Fin


End file.
